


love without words

by ForestFish



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 24-25 yo tops, 90s pop-rock, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Communication, Domestic, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Ice Skating, Introspection, Jazz - Freeform, Living Together, Love Languages, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Nonverbal Communication, Professional Players AU, Snow, Some Humor, Song Mentions, They're in their mid-twenties in my mind, Winter, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestFish/pseuds/ForestFish
Summary: Even if I love you so much it feels like I’m breaking, I can’t convey even a third of my pure feelings. And my stupid heart can’t even say ‘I love you’.
Relationships: Aomine Daiki/Kise Ryouta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	love without words

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, guess I'm back at it again with the aokise. 
> 
> This time it's just a small fluff-filled future fic where they're professional players. I want to keep trying out things and I've been with aokise for so long that they come to me and let me write some things for them. Again, inspired by songs, but not fully this time, just the feelings. The songs are: [1/3 Junjou na Kanjou (cover of Siam Shade's song, which was one of the ending themes of Rurouni Kenshin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65Qp-o40sEw). [The translation right here](https://www.animelyrics.com/anime/kenshin/rk1third.htm). And the other song is this one: [Anniversary by Aurelio Voltaire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9W3f_0lDtI). I recommend listening to them, not only because they're personal favourites, but also because they inspired this. 
> 
> And finally, I want to thank Haru-chan (hkbs-world), for being such a lovely and genuine person, and for reminding me of the fond feelings I have for this ship, which led me to meet my closest friend so many years ago :') I'm dedicating this to you, as a thank you for that, and hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I hope anyone who decides to read this odd little thing enjoys it too.

* * *

Snow falls without a sound. It piles up all around town in silent blankets, muffling all voices. Those who can stay inside do, drowning out the silence. Ryouta suggested that they go out, though, and Daiki agreed without a second thought. Layered up and protected against the snow, armed with umbrellas, they stepped out into their empty street. They trudged along without saying much, holding hands through their thick gloves.

“I like it when it snows,” said Ryouta, his eyes smiling over the yellow scarf “nobody’s out. We don’t have to hide. The snow hides us.”

Daiki sighed. A cloud of his breath hung in the air, blurring his vision for a second.

He sighed. “I guess,” he said, voice muffled by his scarf, “it’s so damn cold, though. Anywhere you want to go?”

“Maybe get some coffee?”

“Sounds good,” said Daiki. They walked on as the snow got heavier and reached the small coffee shop up their street. They didn’t have A/C, only an old wood burner. It was big, the copper was stained, but it did the job. The orange glow of the fire, spreading in flickering through that space, warmed them up as much as the flames.

“Hello, boys,” the waitress smiled, recognising them once they pulled their scarves down, “coffee for Kise-kun and hot cocoa for Aomine-kun, right?”

Ryouta eyed Daiki, who nodded, struggling to untangle himself from his scarf.

“Anything else?”

Daiki shook his head.

“No, thank you, that’ll be all, Saori-san,” Ryouta smiled. She smiled back and left. Ryouta fixed his eyes on Daiki, who had managed to get rid of his scarf, and chuckled. 

“Damn thing,” Daiki complained, throwing it on the empty chair at their table. He sighed and looked at his boyfriend’s rosy face. His shiny, smiling eyes, his face resting on one hand, looking at him. Daiki felt that he could walk out into the snow on the warmth in his chest alone. Two years into their relationship, one year living together, and while it’d been true that infatuation dwindles after a few months, nobody had told him that his feelings would grow stronger. Yet, in all that time, he hadn’t told Ryouta he loved him with the words. It worried him, with all the things he read and heard. It seemed like it mattered.

But how meaningful can words repeated so often be? There were many ways to say it – and he knew all of them – but none felt like it could convey even a third of his feelings for the man he knew he’d be spending his life with. What if it was important to him, though, to hear the words from his mouth? 

Their drinks came in, and they sipped them in silence, soft droning music playing in the background of that mostly empty coffee shop. 

Ryouta smiled. “Thank you for coming here with me,” he said, “you hate the snow.”

Daiki sipped his cocoa and shrugged.

“We don’t get to spend a lot of time together anymore,” Ryouta said, sipping his coffee. He looked away, and there was a shine in his eyes, “Practice and games. We’re always doing things together but…” he shrugged.

Daiki gripped his mug and fixed his eyes on him. What did that mean?

“But?” he asked, quiet, voice faltering.

“I just want to spend more time with you,” Ryouta said. He looked at him and smiled, confusion flashing in his eyes when they met Daiki’s “what’s wrong, baby?”

Daiki swallowed hard and sipped more cocoa, shaking his head. His sigh was small but unloaded a dread the size of the world off his back.

“Nothing,” he said, “nothing. I agree.”

Ryouta beamed.

“What do you say we go ice skating?”

Daiki blinked, thinking he’d misheard.

“We what?”

“Ice skating! The rink opened last week,” Ryouta told him. He got the money to pay out of his pocket and didn’t give Daiki the chance to protest. Their friendly waitress took their money, and they left back into the snow after wrapping themselves up in their layers again.

* * *

The ice-skating rink was a new building. Big, colourful, and covered in neon lights. It had a retro vibe to it that wasn’t unpleasant, Daiki decided. Ryouta thought it was cool and felt like someone had gotten a time machine and brought back something from the past.

“Ever done this, boys?” the short, balding owner asked them when they requested blades. Both shook their heads, “Have fun hitting your bums against the ice, then,” the man joked, “try not to smash your skulls against it, though. Hurts like a bitch.”

“Didn’t have to say that,” Daiki muttered only to Ryouta when they were putting the blades on after the man left. Ryouta chortled. “what’s with this crazy music, though?”

“Skating music,” Ryouta replied, savvy “ _probably_.” Maybe not so savvy. He chuckled. “I think the music has to be upbeat and stuff.”

Daiki shrugged. “Makes sense,” he said and got up, awkwardly walking on the blades “man, I hope we don’t get hurt. The coach will flip.”

“We’ll be fine,” Ryouta assured him, grinning. Daiki snorted and shook his head. 

The bad mood of hitting their asses against the hard ice was replaced by amusement soon enough. There were only two other couples there, and nobody knew what they were doing. Then someone else skated into the rink. It was a guy on his own. He slid across the ice with ease, and everyone stopped to watch him do his thing, leaning against the railings.

“That’s my boy, Ayumu Kurihara,” the owner said to Ryouta and Daiki, behind them “he teaches here. Just practicing today, there’s a competition soon.”

Ryouta’s eyes were fixed on this guy’s movements, watching him do his tricks, those spins and flips, things neither he nor Daiki had ever seen. Daiki didn’t have to ask. He smiled when Ryouta glanced at him with that familiar smile. 

Daiki watched Ryouta skate into the rink once again, but this time he already knew how to skate. Daiki was mesmerised seeing his boyfriend mimic the professional skater’s movements, the double axel, and then the triple. There were gasps. He could skate on a single foot now. He crouched and spun the way the professional did. 

“You lied,” the owner said to Daiki “he does know how to skate…” he paused, “but he was falling on his ass just now.”

“That’s right,” Daiki smiled, proud of his boyfriend “he’s a quick learner.” Ryouta skated, smooth and confident in his direction, smiling. Ryouta reached his hands to Daiki, who took them without a second thought and got pulled onto the rink. 

“It’ll be fine now,” Ryouta said, gripping Daiki’s hand “it’s easy. Follow my lead and see what I’m doing.”

“Alright.”

Daiki wasn’t a quick learner the way Ryouta was; however, he let him lead the way and soon enough had gotten the basics and was no longer falling. They skated, hand in hand, smiling, around the rink to the sound of an old song called _1/3 no Junjou na Kanjou_. Daiki drifted and slid on the ice, and his mind slid out into the cold afternoon sky. 

_Even if I love you so much it feels like I’m breaking, I can’t convey even a third of my pure feelings. And my stupid heart can’t even say ‘I love you’._

The song echoed through the venue and in Daiki’s mind. They skated for a long time, and the playlist continued, but that line stayed with him. Tired and wobbly, they left the rink when it closed at 8 pm. It was pitch black. The streetlamps were on, and the yellow glow reflected, dazzling, on the thick white frozen blanket of snow on the pavements and streets. The snow had stopped, and the snowplough was at work. Tired and mushy, sweating under all his layers, Daiki let Ryouta drag him to the park.

“It’s full of snow. They won’t clean it,” Daiki observed.

Ryouta grinned. “I know, that’s why I want to come now. I want to build a snowman,” he said. Daiki snorted.

“Okay, _Anna_ ,” he joked. Ryouta cackled as both walked over the thick snow and onto the empty park. They started rolling up balls of snow to build that random snowman. Daiki wanted to smash it several times because the layers just kept rolling off.

They ended up with an abomination with twigs for arms, a 7-Up can they found in a bin for a nose and sticks for eyes. Ryouta had a fit of laughter and couldn’t stay up after managing to snap a picture of their creation – he fell back on the snow, laughing. Daiki chortled and followed him, laying down beside him, staring at the night sky in the dim light of the park. 

The words of that song didn’t leave him, and he hummed it under his breath as they made snow angels, laughing, getting their coats soaked, before leaving and going to the warmth of their flat.

“Shower together?” Ryouta asked, getting rid of his boots.

“Sure,” Daiki agreed, kicking off his own. It wasn’t a suggestive invitation, Daiki knew it, and that was even more reason for him to agree. They turned up the heating and stepped into the shower. They chuckled and washed each other’s hairs and backs with care under the steaming water, and they kissed and smiled into the wet kisses, their wet bodies sliding against each other. Daiki’s heart was the only thing throbbing then, and he held Ryouta in his arms under the water. Ryouta held him back, and there was silence. The only sounds were the water running and their breaths and beatings hearts.

* * *

Out of principle, takeout wasn’t an option in that weather. Neither was likely to win the next _MasterChef_ , but they managed to cook for themselves. Daiki boiled the pasta and set the time to boil some eggs while Ryouta sautéed some meat and vegetables. It was decent enough. Daiki made them some warm drinks after they’d eaten, and they sat together on the couch, without turning the TV on, with soft music filling the space. 

It had started on the day the TV broke down. They never turned it on at night now, even after replacing the set. Their CD collection had started similarly, too. They’d get CDs as a sort of souvenir from the places they’d been and then stack them beside the stereo where they’d stay, collecting dust after being used once. The jewel boxes and the stereo no longer collected dust.

Miles Davis that night. Ryouta pulled the CD out of the jewel box for Charlie Parker’s Best Of. Daiki admired the way his boyfriend knew where he’d put things when he never put them where they were supposed to go. The volume was low, soothing, and they sat together in silence, cuddling under a blanket with the heater on. They held each other at any chance they had.

“I treasure these,” Ryouta said, voice soft against Daiki’s shoulder.

Daiki smiled. “Me too,” he said, kissing the top of Ryouta’s head and mused about what he wanted to say to him; what had been swirling about in his mind, “I’m scared, sometimes.” He admitted, quiet, pressing Ryouta’s body to his with the arm he had around him.

“Don’t be,” was Ryouta’s answer, almost immediate. Daiki sighed and felt Ryouta’s smiling lips on his neck. A soft kiss. “don’t be, baby. We don’t spend days like this too often, but we’re always together,” a small pause, Daiki met his eyes with his and saw the twinkle in them, sweet, honey-like, under the dim light of their living room “what I feel for you can’t fade.”

Daiki kissed his smile, his hand cupping his jaw, tipping his head to the side. Ryouta kissed him back, and the warmth of it pooled in their chests, enveloped them, reassuring. Daiki sighed when they cuddled in silence again, smiling. He fixed his eyes on the green numbers on the stereo, the rhythm of Miles Davis’s music droning on like his own heartbeat.

“They said that feelings fade,” Ryouta said, his voice mixing with the gentle instrumental music, “but mine get stronger every day.”

“Really?” Daiki asked, the flush in his cheeks, boyish and silly, but not unwelcome. 

“I feel like I love you more every day, Daiki,” Ryouta said. Daiki looked at his rosy cheeks, the feelings visible on the pale skin, glowing with the smile he was giving him “it was a flame at first, now it’s a fire that never goes out. You know that documentary we watched?”

Daiki raked his brain, wondering what documentary he meant. It’d been a while since they’d watched anything. Then it hit him. He snorted. That documentary felt like a fever dream memory.

“The one about the eternal flames with the weird subtitles we watched that night?”

“Yeah,” Ryouta chuckled, “I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s like that. I don’t think the words for love are good for what I feel,” he kept talking, and Daiki opened his mouth, then closed it. They were in sync even in that. “so I think I’m comparing it to that. You lit a fire in me, and that fire won’t go out.”

Daiki smiled and bit his lower lip, his heart pumping confidence into his mind and, at long last, letting him use his words.

“I was thinking the same,” he started, cautious, making it count, “but not with that thing. I was thinking that I’m shit with words, and I wanted to let you know because I thought that without them you,” he paused and gulped, sighing. Ryouta nuzzled him and held him against him with the arm he had around him, his other making it to the left side of Daiki’s chest. He smiled and leant over for a kiss on the cheek. Daiki welcomed it and closed his eyes. Without words, Ryouta had let him know that he did know and that his inner turmoil had no reason to be. Yet, he wanted to finish his thought.

“The song at the rink,” he continued, voice low and a bit shaky. He sighed. “It was an old song that I recognised, and it’s that,” he told him, “words feel like they don’t have even a third of what I feel for you. They’re used so much that they lose meaning, you know?”

“I do,” Ryouta said. He smiled, “but you don’t have to say anything, Daiki, you don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“No,” Ryouta repeated, “and you said yourself just now, why you don’t. Words mean nothing to you. I know how you feel about me without you saying anything. You show it every day.”

Daiki, sure enough, didn’t know what to say to that and didn’t quite understand.

“How?”

“You clean up after me when I leave stuff around, and you take the bins out without mentioning it. You indulge whatever whimsical thing I want to do," he paused and chuckled, "and you let me talk about things you don’t care about and listen to them,” his eyes shone with those words coming out of his mouth, “you get me things I need just because you heard me mention that I needed them, and you never mention it.”

Daiki looked at him, silent, unsure. That was true, but he didn’t know why Ryouta was mentioning it. It wasn’t something that made him think a lot. He did things for him because he was his boyfriend. Those were just minor things that he knew would either be helpful or make him happy. 

Then, it clicked.

“Oh,” Daiki muttered and snorted, “I’d never thought about that…” he mused and thought about why he knew that Ryouta loved him and it wasn’t hard – he liked to be alone with him doing random fun things, just the two of them, and he never missed a chance to touch him. Neither used words to express their love, but the language was there - wordless, and truer for being so. 

Maybe they’d been saying ‘I love you’ over and over, to each other, for years, without knowing that that’s what they were doing. Miles Davis and his band droned on, comforting and quiet, full of that unbridled energy of jazz.

“It’s fine like this,” Daiki said. Ryouta nodded on his shoulder, “I like it this way. I like that you want to be with me, just the two of us,” he paused and smiled, “even if my ass gets bruised from slamming against ice.”

Ryouta chuckled lightly. Daiki did too. He’d do it again, any day.

“We were alright by the end of it,” Ryouta reminded him, “or I was anyway,” he teased. Daiki chortled and poked the sensitive shallow bit of his waist, making him gasp and chuckle. 

They spent the rest of the evening there, enjoying each other’s company, talking about random things. Their teams, their flat and its little issues, what they should do on their next day off, how they needed to learn how to cook more things – that one was something they often talked about but never happened – all manner of trivial things. 

And they knew then – words had meaning for some, but not for them. They communicated their affection, their pure feelings, in the silence of their love languages. And that was enough.

* * *


End file.
